In the Hall of the Dragon King (26 page)

The dark forms raced headlong into the wolves, squealing and snorting as they ran. The wolves, snarling in terror, turned to face this new foe.

One of the dark creatures brushed by Quentin, nearly knocking him off his feet. It was then that Quentin realized the squealing shapes were those of wild pigs—boars and sows.

The wild pigs, led by a huge boar with long, curving tusks, bolted with a fury into the thick of the wolves. Toli leaped aside as they came crashing into the clearing to engage the wolves.

Fur flew. The tear of flesh and meaty crunch of living bone being splintered could be heard amid the yelp of the terrorized wolves.

The large white wolf, the leader, which had begun the attack, barked once and made a dash for the forest. Those of his marauding band that could still run turned tail and followed him as the pigs snuffled after them.

In moments they were gone, and Quentin stood fighting for his breath in the center of the clearing. All that could be heard was the receding crash of the wild pigs in thundering pursuit of the fleeing wolves.

Then Toli was beside him, peering into his face in quiet wonder. Toli's face was wet from sweat and blood from a small cut over his eye. “Are you all right, Kenta?” he asked, touching Quentin on the arm with his fingertips.

“Yes, I am fine. But you are bleeding.”

“I am not hurt—just a scratch.” He turned to where the sounds of pursuit were dying away in the forest.

“I have never seen anything like it,” breathed Quentin. “Have you?”

Toli shook his head. “It is known among my people that wild pigs will sometimes fight off a wolf that threatens their young. But this . . . this is a mighty sign. Whinoek has raised his hand to protect us.”

“The god must care about us very much,” said Quentin, remembering his desperate prayer only moments before.

“Yes,” agreed Toli thankfully. “But there is something else.”

Quentin waited for him to say what it was.

“There is plenty of game in this forest for wolves to pull down—deer and pigs, the old and sick. Much safer than taking on humans with horses. Wolves do not attack men—only rarely, in the deep of winter when food runs scarce and they starve.”

“What made them do it?” Quentin's eyes went round. “Nimrood?”

Toli gave a cryptic shrug and raised his eyes to where the trees met overhead. The small patch of sky showed a dull iron blue. “The sun is coming up soon. We must be on our way.”

Together they set about calming the horses and breaking camp as quickly as possible. Though neither spoke, it was clear to both that they wanted to be far away as soon as possible.

30

C
aptain Pyggin had threatened not to give his men their usual rum ration, a customary gesture when a ship reached port. But, as were most of his threats, it was an idle one. As darkness fell, the rum pots were filled and the rowdy play of the crew began.

The captives could hear the raucous clamor of drunken voices raised in song. The wild revel would normally have lasted far into the night, but the rum, acting in harmony with the power of Durwin's drug, heightened its effect. Thus, after a few salty choruses and a drink or two, the men collapsed upon the deck where they stood—a normal happenstance on a night like this, but the outcome hastened, thanks to Durwin's art.

Abruptly, the singing stopped, and the snores of the crew members could be heard droning softly against the wash of the waves.

“So it is!” announced Durwin. “That is the remedy. Now to business.”

“Be careful, Alinea,” warned Theido. “There may be one or two still on their feet. Stay out of sight until you have a chance to have a look around.”

“I will,” she said. “Now stop worrying. I will have you out of here in no time.” Alinea, looking more like a stable boy than any queen, ascended the rude staircase of cargo and pushed open the hatch while the others gathered below.

“Oh, my lady,” moaned Trenn nervously, “I'd rather you let me take your place.”

Durwin smiled. “No need. Besides, you would not likely fit through the hatch in your present shape. Come, let us make ready to be off.”

The three ascended the steep steps to the chained and bolted door. Presently they heard Alinea's soft footfall approaching. “What do you see?” asked Theido when she reached the door.

“All are fast asleep, save the cook and his galley servant. They sit nodding in their cups beside a rum pot on the far side of the deck.”

“Can they see us from there?”

A pause. “No . . . I do not think so. Anyway, it will soon be beyond their power to stand up, let alone draw sword against a knight.”

“We must find the keys to these locks—how many are there?”

“There are two, and the door itself. Where should I begin looking?”

“The captain's lackey,” suggested Trenn. “Unless I miss my guess, he was the rat that brought the food and fetched the rope.”

“Good eyes, man!” said Theido. And then to Alinea, “Find the man who brought us our food. He wears a blue coat and a squint, as I recall.”

“He'll likely be found in the captain's shadow,” offered Trenn.

“Yes, look for the captain.”

They heard her footsteps leave and stood waiting for her return. A minute passed. Then another, and another. Each one seemed to stretch out far beyond its normal limit.

Finally, they heard her return. “I cannot find the man, though I found Pyggin. He had no keys on him.”

“What do we do now?” wondered Theido aloud.

“If I were up there, I would find that pirate. Those keys are up there in a pocket somewhere.” Trenn clenched his fist as he spoke.

He had no sooner finished speaking than they heard a low rumble from somewhere far away. “What was that? Listen!”

“It is thunder,” said Alinea. “The sky is clear, but I can see a storm approaching from the east. There is lightning. It looks to be a large storm. And it is moving fast.”

“We have got to find those keys,” muttered Theido.

“What about the other hatch?” suggested Durwin. “The main cargo hatch. We could climb out from there with ease.”

“Alinea, we are going to try the main cargo hatch. How is it secured?” As Theido spoke, thunder cracked in the distance.

“Listen,” said Trenn. “The wind is rising.”

It was true. They could now hear the wind singing in the high rigging of the ship—fitfully, but with growing force.

“I had best wake Ronsard,” said Durwin. “He may need time to gather his strength.”

Alinea returned from looking at the main hatch. “It is a simple hasp with a single staple—it will require no key. They have beaten a wedge through the staple. I may remove it if I can find something to loosen it with.” She hurried away again in search of a tool.

“Come,” said Theido. “Let us be ready to leave here as soon as the hatch is opened.”

The three set about busily restacking casks and kegs, most of which were empty, in a rude stairway that fell short only a few spans from the hatch. Theido stood on the top of the pile while Trenn and Durwin handed him the items needed to construct the precarious stairway. Ronsard sat to one side, complaining, “I am fit, I tell you. I can lend a hand . . .”

“Save your strength, man,” said Trenn. “You will have need of it before this night is through.”

“No more than you will, I should think.”

“Perhaps not,” reminded Durwin, “but none of us have been sleeping as close to death's dark door as you have. There is much to be done before our journey's end. We will need your unhindered strength when the time comes.”

From above could be heard the tapping sound of Alinea working at the hasp. The teetering mountain of cargo tilted dangerously in the slow rocking of the ship with the waves that were beginning to run higher.

The three held their breath and waited.

“It is free!” shouted Alinea. Then, “Aieee!” The scream was muffled and broken off quickly.

“Something's wrong,” cried Theido, clambering up the cargo mountain and heaving the hatch open.

As he poked his head above the deck, he saw Alinea caught in the grasp of a hulking figure whose hands were around her throat. She struggled furiously but futilely against the superior strength of her assailant.

“Release her!” shouted Theido, pulling himself through the hatch. The queen's attacker turned slowly, drunkenly, around to meet Theido's crouching charge. Theido sprang headlong at the man, spearing him full in the stomach like a ram butting into an unwary trespasser.

“Oof!” the man wheezed as he went down.

The pirate hit the deck like felled timber and lay stretched full length gazing up at the sky. He made one feeble attempt to raise his sodden head and then fell back, asleep, his head thumping upon the deck.

“The cook?” asked Trenn, now standing next to Theido and ready for action if his services were required.

“Yes,” said Alinea, drawing a shaky breath.

“My lady, are you hurt?” The warder took her by the arm and gestured her to sit down.

“No, Trenn, I am unharmed. The man was so obviously drunk . . . he frightened me just a little, that is all.”

“Come, everyone!” shouted Durwin as he clambered from the hatch, his eyes searching the sky. “This storm will be upon us too soon, I fear. We must hurry!”

Theido dashed across the deck, shouting, “Trenn, give me a hand with the boats!”

“Ronsard, you and Alinea go with them. I will join you in a moment.”With that, Durwin turned and climbed a low companionway leading to the captain's quarters.

Ronsard and Alinea made their way to where Trenn and Theido were lowering the ship's longboats. They were three rickety-looking specimens of the boatwright's art long past their prime, decrepit—a state hastened by neglect. One boat was already in the water as the queen and the king's knight drew up.

“Here, hold fast to this rope,” said Theido, shoving the thick, braided seaman's rope into Ronsard's hand; the other end was attached to a small open boat. “This one looks to be the most seaworthy.” He and Trenn then dashed farther down the deck to lower the others.

“I do not like the look of that sky,” said Ronsard. As he spoke, the first fat drops of rain splashed at their feet in small puddles. The wind whipped the high rigging, and the ship began to rock against the waves. “I fear we are in the brunt of it.”

“Where is Durwin?” asked Theido as he came running up.

“He went in search of the captain's quarters, I believe,” answered Ronsard.

“Well, let us get aboard while we can.” Theido threw one long leg over the ship's rail and buried his hands into the netting hanging there. He dropped down the side of the ship like an awkward spider and jumped into the boat. He grabbed an oar and pushed the boat, now bobbing like a cork in the swell, closer to the ship.

“My queen, you come next. Trenn, Ronsard, hand her down gently.”

“I can manage,” she said as she threw herself over the side like an experienced sailor and shimmied down the netting into the boat. Trenn and Ronsard stood marveling.

“Move, you two!” yelled Theido.

Ronsard was next, lowering himself somewhat laboriously, a step at a time, into the boat. Trenn followed, releasing the ropes attached to the other two boats.

“Now where is that meddling wizard?” wondered Theido impatiently.

“Let me see to the oars, sir,” said Trenn, settling himself on the center bench.

“It may take two,” said Ronsard, sitting down beside him. “From the looks of those waves, we have our work before us.”

Alinea positioned herself low in the center of the boat at the bow. Theido manned the rudder, casting an anxious eye up to the rail in expectation of seeing Durwin's round face peering over the side at any second. “What can be keeping that hermit? The storm is almost upon us.”

Thunder crashed around them now as lightning tore through the heavy black clouds. Salty spray off the white-capped waves drenched them, and the rain, falling faster now, pelted down in stinging pellets.

“Look!” cried Alinea, her voice lost amid the roaring wind and thunder. The others followed her outstretched hand with their eyes.

“The gods save us!” shouted Trenn; the words sped from his mouth in the shrieking wind.

Glowing green out of the darkness, twisting, writhing like a gigantic living serpent, spun a waterspout coming straight for them. The awful maelstrom, lit by the terrible lightning that showered around it, whirled and coiled about itself, rising half a league into the sky. Behind it a curtain of rain, tossed by deafening winds, hurled into the flood. The little boat rocked violently but stayed above the swell, descending into the valley and then climbing the hill of water on the other side.

Finally, Durwin's bewhiskered face appeared at the rail. Without a glance toward the onrushing waterspout, though the gale seemed to fill the world with its scream, the hermit threw himself over the rail and down the side of the tilting ship.

“Careful!” shouted Theido. No one heard him, though they saw his mouth form the word.

The netting, slippery now, proved treacherous for Durwin's grip. Twice he lost his footing, being saved from a plunge into the angry sea by thrusting his arm through the netting and crooking his elbow.

Theido shouted again. “Jump for it!” Durwin had the same thought at the same instant and half turned, gauged the distance, and then dropped the rest of the way into the boat. As soon as the hermit had plopped into the bottom of the craft, Theido shoved them away from the hull of the ship.

Trenn and Ronsard strained at the oars and began to row furiously. The little boat bit into the water and moved slowly away from the ship.

Theido threw himself against the rudder's stout tiller and headed them toward the shore, now showing as a faint white strand against the gloom.